


pairing ficlets 02

by nina_en_wonderland



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:29:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nina_en_wonderland/pseuds/nina_en_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two ficlets for my Durarara! OTP. </p><p>1. The discord of being without her head fades in his blazing presence.<br/>2. Actions speak louder than words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. something like a rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The discord of being without her head fades in his blazing presence.

Without her head, her world is a blur of colours and shapes, scents and touches.

Her senses are heightened, emotions in turmoil as she rides through the streets of Ikeburo. Even with the shadows tucked safely into her neck, under the helmet of black, yellow and blue, plastic and vinyl, she is assaulted: the din and clamour of innumerous crowds, the scents of food, sweat and petrol, the sense of push and pull and struggle through the crowds - she thinks perhaps it is the shadows wrapped around her body in the form of a catsuit that absorb all this.

The world is a chaotic place - and, sometimes, she feels just the slightest bit lost.

 

With Shizuo, she finds she wants to explore these senses a bit more.

A feeling surges within, a desire of sorts, an urge manifesting.

In the midst of battle, almost back to back: the black mist of her neck scythe streams off in tendrils that curl around them both in a whispering manner neither even realize.

In the midst of battle, his eyes are wide and ferocious yet narrow and deadly, his muscles coil with tension and snap with force, his body blazing with heat - and she can almost taste his anger, confusion, determination and that faint smoky, musky smell that is stronger than ever.

 

Without her head, she feels vulnerable, offguard - it's easy to get lost in the intensity of this world, with its cruel discord and fleeting bliss, so she must try harder to control herself, restrain herself from acting on those emotions that are sometimes not her own.

It's a struggle of sorts, a kind of paranoia - yet her strength and dignity, a barrier around herself, a detachment from the world.

 

With Shizuo, her world falls away at the face of their exchanges: casual, superfluous inquiries that slip into a comfortable, companionable silence.

Sitting with him on a park bench, leaning against a brick wall or cruising on her motorbike, the world seems smaller; the noise, colours and textures fade into a manageable background presence she no longer feels overwhelmed.

This slight, smoky, musky scent whispers in the air, warm with his heat and vitality; the quiet murmur of his voice and the casual touch of his hand at her lower back - all are things she notices, yet doesn't _really_.

It's so easy to let down her guard and just _be._


	2. tastes like home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions speak louder than words.
> 
> prompt: "living at Shizuo's."

It has become a ritual of sorts now.

Whenever she's frustrated by her continual lack of success; whenever she just cannot give up but doesn't know what to do; whenever she feels lonely and Shinra's not enough; when she cannot put up with his dissuasions, perversity and indifference; when she's so angry, she thinks she can feel hints of the emotions that should be behind the death scythe...

She goes to his house.

She imagines it must be strange to have a headless houseguest, but he is unjudgmental and says nothing.

He is so used to her presence and she comes over so often, she even has her own little storage placement - sometimes, their clothes and possessions are even mixed together.

In one instance, it's an unusually hot day and she lolls sluggishly against his sofa in his shirt and old shorts.

Her usual black attire is unsuitable, stifling as even she cannot stand such heat and Shizuo lacks the perversity that would've prevented such ill-fitted clothing and undignified behaviour.

Celty is comfortable and a little drowsy, and the black mist of her neck streams to the other side of the sofa where Shizuo is, reminiscent of clouds as it breathes and hovers above their heads.

In uncharacteristic laziness, she ponders on how it has come to the point where she doesn't even need a reason anymore and simply walks through when he opens the door.

Like today, for instance: where she turned up and immediately took off her helmet once inside and started fanning herself, the zip of her catsuit pulled dangerously low.

Shizuo took one look at her and went to fetch some of his unused clothes.

She felt touched by his silent consideration - and was struck by that age-old adage of actions speaking more than words.


End file.
